Dirty Three's music has always been wild and expansive, but as they settle comfortably into middle age this singular trio has become even more generous.
Celebrating a quarter of a century since their self-titled official debut, they played that record in full but expanded the songs, stretching them out and imbuing them with both the vigour of youth and the wisdom of age.
They swelled to a quartet with a harmonica for some of this celebratory show (at Dark Mofo on 16 June), but are at their best as a lean, perfectly balanced trio.
'Indian Love Song' distils everything that makes them great into one song: a gently playful exploration that slowly metastasises around a propulsive rhythm and turns into a ferocious, shimmering tangle of noise.
Otherworldly melodies circle around this central theme, continually building until the sum product sounds like a chain reaction teetering on the edge of collapse. Of course, it never does – even when it seems to be spiralling out of control, the music is always fuelled by enough energy to sustain itself.
These three musicians know each other like few practitioners, and it makes sense that Warren Ellis gets all the attention. He is, after all, a mystical figure: a disheveled wizard who gyrates wildly and gives aural form to wild, unbounded passion then grabs the mic to indulge in smart-arse banter.
Tonight he's especially gregarious, delivering typically amusing anecdotes and introductions that touch on Melbourne bikies, inventing world music and a bromance inspired by accordion shopping with David McComb. He even pulls out his rarely-seen accordion during the tender, understated performance of 'Odd Couple'.
Odeon Theatre (16 June) - image sourced from Facebook
Behind the kit, Jim White seems to have an extra appendage as he channels the power and changeability of an elemental force. He's always pushing forward without ever seeming rushed, a cloud around where the beat should be as he moves from gentle drops of rain during 'Kim's Dirt' to wild squalls of noise that pulsate and pound in ecstatic crescendos, threatening to tear everything down.
Mick Turner, meanwhile, continues his unchallenged run as Australian music's great straight man, a bedrock on which the madness can reign.
The sum product is virtuosic; wild and abandoned and channelling a spirit that we all search for but few can access this readily.
With no lyrics, the music is transportative and even the songs that clock in at over ten minutes on the record are given room to expand. They breathe and sigh as Warren plucks and saws his violin, conducting an invisible orchestra that helps makes this sound that seems like it can't possibly come from just three people.
As he kicks the air and writhes to the sound of untamed passion he allows members of the crowd to hold his violin aloft. They treat it like a holy relic, and one day it will be. That we can still see it put to such stunning use is a gift, and hopefully more anniversary shows will be coming soon.
